The Librarian
by Lady of the Fountain
Summary: Connie Adlam may be an underhanded cheat, expert thief, a famed adventurer. She may be too devious, quite unbalanced and have very poor moral fibre. But she is NOT a librarian. And she is NOT a babysitter. Legacy and Harry Potter's offspring be damned.
1. Snatching Gone Haywire

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the fictional world created by J.K. Rowling, just original characters and the plot.

**Summary**: Connie Adlam may be an underhanded cheat, expert theif or a famed adventurer. She may be too devious, quite a bit unbalanced and have very poor moral fibre... But she is NOT a librarian. And she is NOT a babysitter. Legacy and Harry Potter's offspring be damned.

**Rating**: M, just precautionary. Mostly due to coarse language.

_Prologue: Snatching Gone Haywire_

„OW!"

A resonant yell echoed of the ancient stone walls.

„Where in the blimey hell are we? This is all _your_ fault! If you hadn't poked the bird –"

„If I hadn't poked the bird we'd be stuck in it's feces for the rest of the week instead of here..." A short blonde girl angrily exclaimed, her thin braids flailing around her head wildly as she observed her surroundings.

„And wherever that may be, atleast it's breezy enough so we can start airing out the reek. Oh, and, could you please move further back? You smell so much worse."

The short girl's companion, a tall brunette, glared at her - a feat barely noticeable in the dark room.

„Oh! Let's just forget _why_ I smell so much worse! _Why_ I had to dive headfirst into a six-feet tall load of bird-dung!"

„Maybe because you're a power-hungry egomaniac who just had to have the locket?!"

„Oh bugger off now! You were all for it when you heard the power can be shared! I'm talking about you dropping it in the middle of the plain! Honestly, it was the single thing you had to worry about--"

„Other then, _oh I don't know_, just my frigging _life_?!"

„Please, before that bird came, you were hardly in any danger—"

„You call being chased by three pissed off Erumpents _hardly any danger_?!"

„You could have handled that. Unlike that blasted bird which I saved you from, you ungrateful bint!"

„Is that what you think? Well just so you know, I would've handled that just fine! As a matter of fact, _better_ than you did."

„Fine! I'll remember that the next time you're in mortal danger."

„Oh save me the melodramatics. That birdie was jus' playin'."

The brunette snorted.

„Yeah. Roast-That-White-Human-Meat's one of her favourites, I could tell."

„That scorch was an accident, she can't help having flaming feathers."

„Like you can't help having half a brain."

„Bitch."

„Moron."

„Cun— Did you hear that?" The blonde tensed suddenly and squinted in the dark, looking over the brunette's shoulder.

„Oh what do you think you're playing at—_mphm_!"

Just as she dismissively rolled her eyes, her companion silenced her with a firm hand over her mouth. „There's something in here," was her quiesced angry response to the brunette's indignant mumbling. And true to word, the brunette's eyes suddenly widened as she too heard shuffling behind her. Seeing she now gained the brunette's attention, the blonde let her go and they both silently moved towards the noise.

„Damien, I'm not so sure about this," Dorea Selwyn said, pacing nervously around the ornate table in the dimly lit room, „the girls are expecting _me_, they won't trust your guys. Besides, I imagine Connie's reaction won't be too beneficial to the cause..."

Having said that, the young woman carefully scrutinized her interlocutor's reaction to the words. He seemed to have noticed and frowned.

„This is too important for our personal shenanigans to get in the way and I trust she's wise enough to see it."

Dorea felt her anger rising at his dismissive words towards their relationship. She would've stepped up in her friend's defence, if she wasn't suddenly struck with another thought.

„But wait, it's just an _ancient small-scale_, right? That's what they signed up for."

„There, you precisely illustrated the problem here on your own, I'm so proud to be affiliating with such capable individuals."

His biting reply confirmed her suspicion and Dorea's eyes widened in almost-crazed excitement. Damien Nott rolled his eyes in frustration at the young woman before him. Widely known to have little patience for any form of pettiness, it would most likely outrage the general public's knowledge to see him consorting with a rebellious teenage girl who is rumoured to (according to Daily Prophet) be travelling the world with pirates, or (according to The Quibbler) is one of the most skilled Mage-art Snatchers in the world. Although to be fair, among the things about the 27-year-old Damien Nott that could appal the general public, this is quite trivial.

„You can stop the self-satisfied inner monologue, Dorea, nothing good is coming out of this. If my team doesn't leave in an hour, they 're as good as dead."

She expected him to roll his eyes again, to show her he is saying this merely out of frustration, but when she looked at his stern face and saw genuine worry etched across it, she mumbled nervously, „I lost them when they reached Algeria."

From time to time – though not nearly as often as she should - Constance Adlam questioned her sanity and moral fibre. Because the situation she currently found herself in is obviously Karma making her pay her dues.

Constance always knew she was special. How could she not when everyone around her told her that as often as they could, hoping she will one day use those gifts of nature she had been rewarded with to do extraordinary things – some, like her teachers or her grandmother, hoped those things would be beneficial to the mankind, some, like her parents, hoped she would raise the Adlam name to the top of the social pyramid and get a page or two in Wizarding History. She was a golden child in every aspect – born into a wealthy and prestigious family, showing inordinate magical powers since she was five, she was nurtured for greatness.

And now she is twenty-four, without her wand, covered in bird-faeces, tied from head to toe to a wobbly-looking ancient stone column in the middle of nowhere in Algeria, with seven extremely angry mummies around her demanding she gives them back an ancient locket of great power she stole and her coleague – currently passed out on the floor at her feet – lost.

„Look, guys, I told you, we thought it was a small-scale... That is, a locket typical to it's day and age – containing small, but very specific power used mostly by kings and pharaohs to intimidate the muggle portion of their dominion. Even more specifically, we thought this one was used by a pharaoh's wife to wreak vengeance on her former lovers – we didn't think you'd miss it, really..."

„Fool! Where it? Give it!" Exclaimed the only mummy that spoke to her, probably the only one that spoke English. Connie cringed as she surveyed the burnt bandages and the scorched-off arm - too bad that had to be the one she managed to reach with her flame-thrower.

„_We...don't...have...it_... Get it?"

„Yes! We get it! You give it, we get it! Give it!"

„No! We can't _give it_, we _don't_ have it!" The mummy slapped her.

„Yes! Give it!"

„You just slapped me, you fucking mummy!! ME. NO. GIVE. IT. F-U-C-K-O-F-F! Go write that on your effing sarcophagus!"

If mummies had distinguishable facial expressions, Connie guessed this one would be putting it's game face on. „Good. You die."

„Over here! Found a wand!"

Dario Horvat turned towards the cry of his colleague, to see a young man – Matt, was it? – waving him over, pointing to a wand half-buried in the desert sand. He thought the bloke's field of work might've been paperwork, because he looked as if he was going to stain his pants any time now. Though, Dario mused it wouldn't be too hard to feel out of place here in the middle of the foreign desert with all these intimidating, expertly trained soldiers around him, pushing him out of their way whenever they think they might've sniffed out some blood. And boy was there blood.

There was an on-off bloody trail leading from sand ruins of the ksar to the dry plateau seven kilometers away. It might've been enough to make a 20-something paper-boy nauseous, but Horvat was a 50-something veteran and far too experienced with chasing Constance Adlam across the globe.

He patted the boy's back and dismissed him. He inspected the newfound wand and sighed.

„Hers, then?"

One of the Lambert commanders, the two brothers serving the unofficial troop, asked him. He never knew which was Michael and which one was Tripp. They were both over two meters tall, shaven bald and had thunderous voices.

„Yes, I'm afraid."

„But... what chance does she have without it?"

„Decent, actually. If Damien's assumptions are correct and no one is after her yet. But we better hurry. South-east, you said?"

„Yes, my boy Tyrell here," he gestured towards the paper-boy,"has the numbers. We picked up on the injured bird whose blood was on the ruins. Two Erumpets were found stunned pretty hard few kilometers north, one might not make it so I sent a few fellas to clean it up, but we found tracks of another and that one's still M.I.A., sir. You want us to keep looking? They've been known to hold a grudge, so if the girls injured it..."

„Don't worry about Erumpets. Something else drove them so far out of Egypt... Perhaps the bird? It's nothing we know of, is it?"

„There are reports of a gigantic bird whose feathers ignite when she senses someone possesing a valuable object, she sniffs out one's fear of losing the object and greed to have it, so to speak, and then tries to steal it. No one lived to confirm the story, though."

Dario frowed. That sounded awfully inconvenient. Connie went to Africa to steal some kind of a locket for personal purposes and if that bird truly exists, there was no way it could've missed her. When Connie wants something, there is nothing that can get in her way.

„Mala hulja. Postajem prestar za ove stvari," he sighed, muttering to his beard in his mother tongue.

A soldier was waving them over hundred meters away.

„Seems they found something. Lead the way, Commander."

„What were you thinking, leaving like that?!"

„Leaving like what?! I don't answer to you!"

„You answer to Damien, you work for him!"

„Oh, I'm sorry, has it escaped your memo? We parted ways. Religious differences, you see. He thought he was God, I didn't."

Nelle woke up with a groan. She thought her head was bobbing up and down and she confusedly tried to stop it with her hands. The light was for some reason glaring at her ferociously, and Connie and Horvat's screaming match was making it hard for her to reason things out.

„Would you two kindly stuff your pie-holes?"

They stopped their quarelling and crossed the room to her bed and helped her sit up straight.

„How long have I been out?"

„Not too long. Couple of hours. You missed Mr. Nott's Wondrous Team of Wonder crashing in on our party. The mummies – you remember the mummies, right? –" Connie asked her suspiciously.

„Kinda hard to forget, such charming gentlemen," she gestured to her bandaged forehead.

„Yeah, well, Nott's morons over there set them on fire."

Nelle groaned.

„Connie, don't you think you could be a bit grateful. They saved our lives."

„They did not! We would've—"

„They saved our arses."

„Whatever, I wanted those mummies alive and hostage! And some friends you two are, taking the ex's side!"

„He's not even here! Oh, just bloody get over him!"

„I am _so_ over him."

„Over whom?"

A cold deep voice behind her sent a chill up Connie's spine. She turned and faced her opposition coolly.

„Nott. You bastard."

„You're welcome."

„All right, kids, let's all take a five, shall we?"

Dario interrupted them and sat down tiredly.

„Ja sam _stvarno_ prestar za ovo."

Connie understood him and sat down with him, her arm around the man's back.

„Nemoj se ni šalit. Pa da me ostaviš s ovim balavcima ovdje," she smiled kindly at the man that was her father in so many ways. Damien watched their interaction with a soft expression on his face. He might sometimes hate Connie Adlam, but he knew they would always share their love for Dario. They both saw a father in him, father he never had, and Connie left. His face darkened as he remembered what he came here for.

„Connie, the other room, if you please."

She frowned but obliged him. It was always a bit of a russian roulet, to oblige him in these requests. She weighted her options – he will either start a verbal fight, or a physical one, or a duel, or he could try to snog her or—

„Sonya died."

No. _No_ was the only thing racing through her brain. Not her sweet, kind, strong grandmother.

„She went peacefully, in her sleep. They say her last words included you. You should speak to Charlie about that, he was there."

Not Sonya Yaxley. She was magnificent. So powerful, so kind... She ruled the wizarding world from the shadows. So many people owed her their lives and many will never even know.

„Connie? Are you alright? My deepest regards... She was an amazing woman," he offered uncertainly.

What about her legacy? Her mysterious business... No one knew in full what she did, all Connie knew was how well she was connected and some of the fruits of her labour. She never understood how Sonya worked her magic, but she heard whispers of a great underworld web of secrets whose keeper she was.

And what about her smile. How she would smile in encouragement when no one else would. When she was a child and dirtied up her gown because she climbed the tree to save that injured bird... And her mother yelled at her in front of their guests, and everyone looked on disapprovingly... All except her Nana Sonya, who offered a sly smile and a wink. Unaware, Connie found herself sitting on the hotel bed, held in Damien's arms as tears streamed down her cheeks. She touched her face in surprise. When did she sit down, and when did she start crying? And why is he rocking her? She still resents him. She broke free of his grip and stood up.

„I'm going home."

And with a turn and a crack, she was gone.

**A/N**: The lines in foreign language are in Croatian. Dario: "That little hooligan. I'm getting too old for this."  
Conversation between Dario and Connie:  
"I'm really too old for this."  
"Don't even joke about it. You think you're gonna leave me with these tykes?"

Thank you for reading! I'd really appreaciate a review! =]


	2. Home is Where Your Story Begins

_Home is Where Your Story Begins _

Damien returned to Dario and Nelle. Nelle was still on the bed, moaning and holding her head. Dario looked up at him.

„I take it you told her then?"

He knew he was asking about the news of Sonya's passing.

„Yeah, I told her," he sighed.

„And? How did she take it?"

„She apparated home."

„Home as in London?" Dario asked hopefully. If she went to her apartment in London, he had no need to worry. She would have time to think and cool down on her own. But he knew the truth before Damien confirmed it.

„Doubt it. Home as in trouble."

„What? Connie's gone to Tinworth? What happened?" Nelle asked blearily.

„Her grandmother's passed away."

„Oh... That must be tough for her, she talked about her a lot. I met her once. She seemed so nice. Kinda kooky, but nice."

Dario frowned at her words.

„She was a magnificent witch. There will never be another like her."

„Sorry," she blushed, „you know I live with my foot in my mouth. My condolences."

„I wasn't that close to her. I just worked for her for a while."

„So, is it true, then? What they say about her business? That she operates some secret society?"

The men laughed.

„No. It's not a secret society," Dario answered, „you of all people should know not to trust The Prophet."

„But there is something?"

„Yes," Damien smiled, „there is something. Something big."

„But we don't exactly know what it is," Dario added.

„But you worked for her."

„It was more an exchange of favours than anything else. I didn't get a peak into what she did with what I aquired for her."

„But you must have an idea..."

She looked at him eagerly. Dario just smiled.

„That's no business of yours. I can assure you that whatever it was, it was clean."

„Wow. Then she couldn't have been too proud of Connie."

„Don't say that Nelle. Connie... is a maverick. She considers herself to be free from everything and anyone. And that's her sole motivation, in everything she does. While quite naive, it's usually harmless. Well, to everyone but her."

„But you risk your life for her all the time."

„No, not really. Most of the time it's the other way around."

Nelle considered him suspiciously.

„Why do I get the feeling there's a whole load of things going on around here I know nothing about?"

„Because there is. You and me both," Damien frowned,"and that needs to end. Now that Connie takes on the business, we need to be in it together. Unconditionally."

„Right. And what's with all the fuss about the locket? Isn't it a small-scale?"

„It's not what you thought it was, but you shouldn't worry about it. It's nothing that would interest you, but quite powerful in its own right. We're working on recovering it from the Naergel. She found it before we did."

„The what-gel?"

„The bird. That's what they call her here. Anyway, Dorea should come and pick you up tomorrow morning. That's when we'll leave for Tinworth, for the funeral."

Nelle frowned. As Dario and Damien continued their discussion quietly in the corner, she felt like she was being dismissed. She was now more than ever interested in the locket, and cursed herself for being so careless with it. Damien tried to be dismissive about it, but Nelle could read his reaction better. This locket was somehow special and she would get to the bottom of it. Besides, he wouldn't be here if that wasn't the case. But all this talk of things she didn't understand was tiring her. She felt her head grow heavy before she unceremoniously flunked down on her bad, asleep in seconds.

„You really think she's the heir?" Dario asked Damien, looking over bandaged Nelle, who was now snoring lightly.

„I'm sure of it. Charlie told me Jeanne was at her bed whenever she had a chance, hoping Sonya would give it to her, since they have a reason to believe the surrender of rights is made through a verbal consecration. But he said Sonya feigned delirium whenever she was around. And in the end, she just left a message for Connie."

Dario looked stricken.

„That does sound awfully univocal. But that's crazy. Maybe she didn't feign that delirium - Connie isn't ready."

„But she's got us. And that's why we have to stick together."

Connie stood in front of her parents' home. She apparated three kilometers away from the house she spent her childhood in and walked the rest of the way as slowly as was humanly possible. She spent the last seven years avoiding the place like the plague. And today, it looked as inviting as the day she left. Actually, now that her grandmother's gone, even less so.

Only her mother and brother would be home. She checked The Prophet to see that mourning and burial of her grandmother is indeed tomorrow. It ought to be crowded then, and filled to brim with important figures of wizarding world, and the family reunion ought to be dramatic enough without such an array of spectators.

Her mother was Jeanne Yaxley Adlam and if her daughter was asked, she was the biggest bitch this world had to offer. She was a stubborn bigot, still trusting the old pureblood hierarchy, a sworn materialist, caring for nothing but her name, prestige, money and power that was to be acquired however possible. She was quick to make use of everything around her, which is why she was delighted to find out that her daughter, just like her mother, carries a family gene that bestows her with exceptional magical power. She immediately saw this as a chance to bring back the old glory of the pureblood name, and prove once and for all their superiority. Connie was born a free spirit, and after a bit of encouragement from her grandmother, she completely fell out of reach of her mother's influence. The moment she was introduced to her peers in Hogwarts, she saw through her parents' outdated ideology. She never for a second thought herself better then those of muggle background. And while she tried to reason with her mother to the best of her abilities, as she grew up their differences soared until Connie realised she will never see eye to eye with her parents, and when she turned seventeen, right before she went to Hogwarts for the last time, she moved out to London where she stayed with her then-boyfriend, Damien Nott.

Her brother Charlie never forgave her for leaving. Which she never forgave him for. He disagreed with Jeanne's views, but he loved her all the same. He was far more sensible then his reckless sister and therefore believed that, even if the two women didn't come to terms on most things, they should still have more respect for each other. But unfortunately, the only thing they seemed to share was unwavering pride and stubbornness, so no such peace was ever acheived. Jeanne's psyche suffered a tough blow at her daughter's leaving, as all of her dreams of prestige and power went out the door with her. Charlie took her distress for grief, and blamed Connie for being heartless towards her.

Connie tried to reason with her brother, and sent him letters from time to time. Four years ago, he started responding, but their relationship was still strained at best. And two years ago, when their father passed away, Charlie found a new bone to pick with his sister when she failed to show up at the funeral. Which is why the last thing he expected today was to see her at his doorstep.

„Connie!"

He looked her dishevelled appearance up and down, and touched the dried bloody gash on her cheek gently.

„You look like shite."

Connie sighed in relief and threw herself in his arms. He wasn't going to start a fight. Good, because she barely had enough energy for her mother.

„And _you_ look like you're wearing yourself down prematurely. Is that a gray hair?"

He chuckled and nudged her playfully. He was glad she's here, finally facing the consequences of her actions, however late. He only hoped mother would be feeling reasonable today.

„Oh... It's _you_."

Connie freed herself from her brother's arms and faced the woman in the hallway.

„_Mother_."

Connie blinked twice before she believed her eyes. This woman wasn't her mother, surely. Her mother was always arrogantly stunning, always groomed to perfection, not one hair on her head haywire. Every inch of her would scream how better-then-thou she felt she was. This wasn't someone Connie remembered, this woman was weakness personified. She was stick thin, her collarbone protruding eerily above the neckline of her gray, tattered bathrobe. Her cheeks were too hollow, making her aristocratic cheekbones and large eyes bug out of her head and make for a scary sight. Her hair was almost completely gray, only a bit of the bottle auburn remained on ends.

„You look awful." It was meant as an insult, but it came out weakly whispered. Connie wasn't cruel enough. If her mother was righteously distressed, it was all Connie's fault. And even if her motives in grieving weren't all that selfless, she still deserved pity.

Jeanne frowned at the look her daughter gave her.

„Don't you pity me. I no longer have anything to lose. It's a wonderful feeling, actually. Freeing." Her sneer spoke volumes. Connie could only imagine what kind of a life she led these days. How bored she must've been. After Connie left, her ambitions must've tranferred to her husband. When he died, they probably transferred to Sonya. They all fell through, and now she has nothing. Charlie is the least ambitious person Connie knew, she couldn't milk anything useful out of him. So she'll rot away here, for the rest of her days.

„Merlin, what have you been doing to yourself?" Connie took a step forward, but her mother recoiled.

„Get away from here. You're not welcome and we have nothing that would interest you. And don't worry about Sonya's will. You're not in it."

„That's not why I came." But her words still stung. Hadn't her grandmother loved her? She didn't expect anything valuable, but atleast her old music box, or some other stupid trinket to remember her by.

„I wanted to see you. I wanted..." She looked at her mother's face, but saw nothing. No regrets. Then why should she have any?

„Nevermind. It was a mistake."

„Yes, probably." Her derisive voice pierced through Connie.

„Mother," Charlie begged her, „would you please listen. You can't go on like this, you must try and make peace with yourself--"

„I'm at perfect peace. As I'm sure she is. I'm sure she still has no qualms about leaving me and her father, off to prance around the world with her little pack of outcasts, fucking pirates and sheiks and that poor excuse for a Nott. There was no time for her own blood when there were Malawians to feed."

„Mother, you're being ridiculous. You made it perfectly clear that if I don't become your little puppet, I'm not welcome here! I was obviously doing you a favour!"

„I only wanted what was best for you!"

„Oh that's rich! The thing you were least concerned with was my benefit! You only wanted me there when you could use me in your little game of thrones!"

„I wanted you to fulfill your potential! And you had so much of it. And look at you now! You're a joke, Constance! You've done nothing with your life! I know the life you think you're living. You think you're free, when in fact you're everyone's little whore! Dario uses you for material gain, Damien in his political games, and they all keep you within their arms' length because they're all afraid of you! Afraid of what you could become if let free!"

Connie stood in front of her mother stunned. They were both fuming and out of breath, but Connie was finally speachless. Her mother was right. Those were the very things she sometimes mulled over in her head late at night, but could never bring herself to truly face.

„You always thought I was evil, didn't you? Atleast I never pretended to be your friend. Mark my words, Constance. You will find you ran away from a mere sheep to a snake's den. And snakes who live there answer to friendly names."

With that piece of motherly advice and a humourless laugh, she turned and was gone from Connie's life forever.

„Will you be alright?" Connie asked him worriedly.

Charlie smiled. „Of course. She's not all that bad, you know. The elves serve her, all I have to do is play chess with her and listen to her bitch about you and father and the Ministry. She doesn't even leave the house anymore."

They were strolling through the park by their family home. Connie felt apprehensive about leaving her brother with the hag all alone. She couldn't help but notice how her brother looked so much older then her despite being two years younger.

„You should get out more. When was the last time you scored something?" She grinned at him cheekily.

„Urgh. Don't remind me." He sighed. They walked in peaceful silence for a while, enjoying the crisp autumn air and the colourful park, filled with oblivious little tykes chasing eachother, punching eachother, laughing and playing, all happy and careless.

„What did Sonya leave you?" Connie asked curiously. Charlie was avoiding talking about her but she couldn't resist any longer. She wanted to know what will happen to her legacy.

„Her house in Yorkshire."

„Really? That's fantastic!" She smiled at him. Seeing him frown, she knew what was on his mind.

„You know, I bet it's her way of telling you to move on. Get a life of your own before Jeanne eats you out."

„She's not eati—"

„That's not the point! Look at you! You're a perfectly capable twenty-two year old wizard and you're stuck with a pointless desk job, with no social life, taking care of your bitchy mother in your childhood home!"

He glared at her. „Thank you for your delightful input, dear sis. You may leave now," he started shoving her playfully towards the entrance to the park, "and forget to write."

She laughed and jumped on him, which caused them to topple on the floor and start a wrestling match. Connie quickly won and pinned him unceremoniously to the ground as some kid started pointing at them and laughing at Charlie for losing to a girl.

„See? Even the kid gets it. You're pathetic."

„Merlin, don't I know it."

Connie stood up and offered him a hand. If she ever regreted running away, it was because of him. Becuse she knew her brother was too kind for his own good and would stick by Jeanne no matter how big of a bitch she was. And now it's all taken a toll on him. He was supposed to be successful. Unlike Connie, who avoided any non-practical learning of magic and prefered to bunk off her classes for some extra-curricular activities she pegged as more useful (underground dueling in Hogsmeade), Charlie was brilliant at Hogwarts. He aced his N.E.W.T.s and had tons of job opportunities available. Only he decided to put his ambitions on the back burner so he could take care of his mentally unstable mother. Despite the show of premature aging on his face, he was still very attractive. It pained Connie to think about all that he missed out because of her.

„I'm sorry, Charlie." She whispered with her head down, unable to look at him.

He took her chin in his hand and turned her head so she could look at him in the eyes. Matching hues of brown considered eachother, one pair smiling sadly, other overcome with guilt and blurred with tears.

Charlie smiled and wiped at her eyes with his thumb before tears could fall. „No, you not. You're proud of everything you've done, you just feel guilty about it. But it's fine. You should be proud. I'm proud of you. I know that, whatever happens, I can always count on you being Connie. Wild, honest Connie. Untouchable, strong. I missed you."

„I missed you too." She smiled shyly. „I don't deserve you."

„Nope."

She laughed, but it died in her throat. She suddenly remember Sonya, whose kindness she also never deserved. How she would always be there to save the day, whenever Connie got into something way over her head. Even in these seven years, when she abandoned her family.

„How was... Nana? The last few months?"

„Shockingly normal. It was only the last few days that we noticed she was growing weaker. And she called up Mario to rewrite her will. Did you know Jeanne got nothing? And she was actually hoping she'd get the Firm."

They called their grandmother's mysterious business the Firm. All they knew about it was that the Firm cooperated with leaders of the entire wizarding world, was worth a fair few million galleons and consisted of about twenty people in it's inner circle, all of whose identity was kept secret, and whose loyalty was unquestionable.

„What? Ownership of the Firm is passed on? Isn't that a bit...outdated?"

„Maybe. But we know for a fact it wasn't always in our family, so it's not inherited by blood directly. Sonya hinted though, that..."

Charlie looked nervous as he spoke, which immediately roused Connie's suspicion. „Hinted, you say?"

„Yeah... She might've said something... About you."

„What about me?" Connie demanded, not liking his shifty eyes. She knew her Nana wouldn't leave without a tiniest goodbye to her, she just knew it. „Spit it out!"

„I can't... I... Promised..."

Connie's eyes narrowed dangerously. „To Sonya?"

„I... Ahh... Damien."

„Urgh! I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch! Will he ever stop meddling in my fucking business!!"

They were sitting on the outskirts of the park, still within hearing range of the children, and one disgruntled mother threw Connie a glare as her son started roaring with laughter and repeated her words.

Charlie offered the mother an apologetic smile, but Connie paid them no attention as she stood up and started pacing.

„Charles Terrence Adlam! You better tell me what I am rightfully supposed to know! Damien has no business with me or Sonya! And you have no right to hide this from me!"

„Alright, alright, would you just calm down?" He smiled nervously at a flock of mothers that have now gathered around in a circle, pointing at them angirly, their wands drawn out.

„Let's go somewhere more private."

„Repeat."

Charlie sighed. They were an abandoned railway station they used to play around when they were kids. They spent the last twenty minutes reviewing their grandmother's last words to Connie and were coming to no useful conclusion. Charlie repeated himself for the umpteenth time.

„Jeanne leaves the room. Nana stops with the pretend gibberish and her eyes aren't glazed over anymore. She looks at me determined and states clearly; _Connie should go ask Marvin about that chess piece. He'll lead her to the legacy. It's all hers. I have faith in my girl._"

Connie kept pacing furiously. Nothing made any sense to her, she didn't know a single Marvin. And, apparently, he knew where her inherited trinket lay hidden.

„This is just like her! I'll spend days and nights trying to figure it out, and when I finally do and find her 'legacy' it'll turn out to be an actual chess piece! Or the stupid music box! Why can't she do anything the normal way?"

Charlie laughed. „That's Nana for you. Look, you're right, it's probably nothing too important. You should go home and get some rest. You really look like shite."

Connie glared at him but hugged him goodbye and acctivated her portkey to take her home to London.

She was having her morning coffee when it hit her.

„Marvin?! Marvin the Paranoid Android?!"

_It was a long shot but it's all I have_, she thought. Marvin might be a muggle electronic toy her Nana bought her at a muggle fair that came to Tinworth when she was nine. Her Nana was a fan of the muggle books by Douglas Adams in which there was a character Marvin, the Paraniod Android. It was a phase in Connie's life when she was very impressed by all things muggle so she was fascinated as Nana talked about the silly stories this Adams chap cooked up and she loved this pathetic looking plastic toy of the robot Marvin that spoke silly catchphrases when you hit him on the head. The toy stopped working before they even got home, but Connie kept it, like every other trinket her magnificent Nana gave her.

She was pretty sure the toy was at Dominique's. Her mother wanted to throw away all of her childhood toys when she was fifteen, but Dom offered to safe-keep all of them with their own.

„Wow, this won't be awkward at all. Hey, Dom, my ex-best friend, how you been since we last saw each other five years ago? Been keeping my toy robot safe and sound?"

Dominique Weasley and Connie were the same year at Hogwarts and lived few kilometers away from each other. They were similar in spirit, both adventurous and quick to find trouble, and Dom always encouraged her to set herself free from her bigoted family. But as they left Hogwarts, Dom established herself as a respectable journalist, while Connie spent most of her working hours running from the law. Most of the members of Dom's expanded family aspired to keep people like Connie behind prison bars. Needless to say, they hardly stayed in touch. Still, Damien pointed out a few articles to Connie in which Dom defended the freedom of trafficking magical artefacts, which led Connie to believe she still had her support.

„Oh, might as well."

Her portkey took her back to Tinworth and she apparated in front of the Shell Cottage. Memories overflew her as she remembered her childhood days around this house. How Dom and she loved the sea, and how Fleur would yell at them each time they dived in, because it was always too cold and waves were too high. None of that mattered to the two girls and no amount of reprimand could stop them from diving in again, laughing their day away...

„My, my, what the cat dragged in. Just met Charlie in the shop, but didn't believe him when he said you came back."

Dom's beautiful face was set into an unreadable frown, but Connie grinned at the blonde. If she was angry, she would've attacked already.

„Hey, you."

Dom couldn't take it anymore and ran to her, laughing all the way. The girls embraced happily and it was almost like the old days, when they frolicked in the sea, laughing away their day. But Dominique ended the vision abruptly.

„So sorry about Sonya. All the Weasleys and Potters are coming for the funeral tomorrow. She saved Harry's life once, did you know? On one mission for the Ministry in Spain. And she worked with my Dad a few times too."

„I didn't know. I guess I missed a lot."

„Yeah. And I bet you're not back either." Dom smiled knowingly.

Connie could only smile sheepishly and shrug. Dom invited her inside, but Connie explained she just needed her toy back. Dom raised a sardonic brow.

„I haven't seen you in five years, and you come back for a muggle toy."

„Errr...kinda? Tell me, has Sonya visited lately?"

„Actually, she was here just a week ago. That's why the news of her death shook us. Sure she was old, but she looked as good as ever."

„Dom, I know it's weird, but I'll really need that toy if it's still here."

„Alright. Does it have something to do with Sonya?"

„It could."

It took her fifteen minutes that to Connie seemed like hours, but Dom found it. They laughed about the weirdness of it all, but in truth Connie was now convinced this was the Marvin she was looking for. She went to the railway station and examined the lifeless object.

„So Marvin, how about that chess piece?"

Nothing happened.

„Dear Marvin, I would really appreciate it if you told me about the chess piece... Chessss-pieeece. I'm asking about the blasted chess piece."

Nothing.

„Wait. Nana always seemed to know what I'm up to, all the time. What if..." She stopped her pacing and stared at the toy determinedly. A few weeks ago, she was in Egypt fishing for information about the locket she then thought was a small-scale magearte she could use against her ex. A local magearte snatcher offered to tell her the exact location of the locket if she stole a diamond Queen chess piece from the Egyptian Minister of magic. She snatched it with little trouble, but was very apprehensive about giving it away so lightly since she couldn't find any information on it. What if the chess piece was more valuable then the locket? She never found out.

„Ask you about the Queen, right... What the fuck was the significance of the diamond Queen?"

Nothing... And then a flash of bright blue light, and just before the portkey took her away, her grandmother's voice rang out. _It was an imitation._

Connie materialised on a shiny, dark hardwood floor. She looked around the splendid room. It reminded her of the Morrocan style, but a bit more demure. There was a big couch, a narrow bookcase and a huge empty desk that covered roughly a third of the whole room. A fireplace cackled cheerfully, and it all seemed elegant and homely. A place she could easily picture her grandmother living in.

„She left me a house?"

There was a crash outside and Connie took out her wand. She silently approached the only door in the room. To an untrained ear, it was all suddenly silent, but Connie could hear someone on the other side of the door approaching it just as stealthily. She waited for her opponent to open the door while she hid behind them. As he entered and turned to face her, she was quick to level her wand with the man's face, but he followed right behind. He was a stocky man about forty years old, his thick brown hair peppered with gray. He had bushy eyebrows and a wide nose, and looked completely harmless. Connie had to stop herself from chuckling. But he did seem quick on his wand, and Connie wasn't so eager to start a duel on such unfamiliar ground.

„Where am I?" She guessed that in these kind of situations, it was best to start out carefully honest.

„Somewhere authorization is required. State your name and purpose."

„Might as well. Adlam. No idea."

This changed the man's countenance completely. He regarded her carefully.

„I'll need a drop of your blood. To prove you're an Adlam."

Suddenly, three more men apparated around her, and they caught her by such surprise it took her a few seconds to become aware of the fact one of them disarmed her. She cursed her carelessness and didn't have time to even consider a way out of there when the first man flicked his wand and blood ran out of a small gash on her hand.

Another man, a twenty-something wiry bloke with glasses, took her hand and gently scraped the gash along a piece of parchment. Blue ink appeared on it, forming words _Constance Yvonne (Yaxley) Adlam_. All four of them stared at her in appraisal.

„Welcome home, Miss Adlam. I'm Gerry." The first one introduced himself with a curt nod of his head.

„Home?"

The men looked at each other uncertainly. „You don't know _anything_ about this place?" Gerry asked her.

„No. Why should I? Who the hell are you and stop talking in codes! Where am I? Am I being kidnapped?!" She tended to get angry when she was confused. Her frustration was growing by the second.

„Constance Adlam, you are the sole heir of Sonya Yaxley's enterprise for the trafficing of magical scripts."

Connie closed her eyes.

„Well that makes perfect sense." She smiled sardonically.

They were all looking at her blankly.

Gerry continued in a dramatic voice that made Connie roll her eyes. „Well, it all secrets of the trade, no? The spells, potions, plants, beasts... How they need to be used... Wizards don't figure it out by accident. The secrets have been passed on, ever since the ancient times..."

Gerry was looking at her expectantly, like she was supposed to have figure it all out by now. She responded with another raising of the brow.

„It's in the scripts. Books, letters..." The wiry bloke explained, rolling his eyes at Gerry who pouted at the interruption of his dramatics.

„Everything ever written, it is stored in a single Library.," The Wiry One continued, „of which your grandmother was the Librarian, and we are the Guardians."

It was too much of Caps for Connie and she found herself dizzy with the information.

„Wait, Nan—Sonya was a librarian? That's the big secret?!"

The men seemed affronted by her dissapointment. The Wiry One pursed his lips.

„I don't think you quite understand. You are in possession of something wizards and witches have died for. Something priceless."

Connie considered them suspiciously. „And where might be this priceless thingy?"

The Wiry One pointed at the narrow bookcase. Connie was about to laugh at the 'grand assortment of twenty five books' they had there, but she caught her breath just in time.

She couldn't explain it, but it was calling to her. She found herself reaching for the book in the middle before she even realised she took a single step. It looked ancient and worn-out.

And the moment she touched it, she disappeared into thin air.

**A/N**: I'd love some feedback. Review, anyone? =]


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